


As of yet Unnamed

by adenineTransfixion



Series: Old Hetalia Works [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Injury, M/M, More tags will be added later, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1783282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adenineTransfixion/pseuds/adenineTransfixion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tino was glad to move, happy to have a fresh start and willing to work for it if he needed to. Everything would work out fine! Or so he told himself.</p><p>Edit 10/2: ON HIATUS!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From house and home

**Author's Note:**

> This story is vaguely inspired by a story I found on FF.net some years ago called Weather Channel by Puuda Surf. At the time it had only three chapters and hadn't been updated in a very long time. This was the result of my longing for more at the time, but it never got posted and it never got finished. I don't have any particular schedule for updating this, but I hope that having it up will inspire me to write more and complete it.  
> Disclaimer: Hetalia and all it's characters belong to Funimation and Hidekaz Himaruya, I am making no profit and am only writing for entertainment's sake.

Tino waded slowly through the untouched snow, taking his time to admire the shells of frost on the trees, the icicles hanging from their limbs in gleaming rows and the few globes of frozen apples clinging like shrunken ruby-red Christmas ornaments. Cresting the hill, Tino turned to look back at the trail of footprints strung out behind him.

He brushed the silk soft blonde hair out of his eyes—the pale color of milk chocolate—and gazed down on the valley. The flat smooth surfaces of frozen lakes and ponds, the gentle swell and roll of pure white fields, groves of silvery frosted leafless trees and evergreens. The peaceful quiet and the trails of wood smoke from the chimneys of the little town among a backdrop of crisp purity.

It was beautiful. Calm. Perfect.

The young Finnish man smiled softly to himself and nodded slightly. He could be happy here. All he had too do was move in. The house had been his for years, and he hadn’t even known it until last year when his grandmothers will had finally been found and read. He hadn’t seen it yet but his cousin from Norway had assured him that it was perfect for him, a little cottage two or three miles out of town. He knew he would like it. What wasn’t to like about a place like this?

Smiling cheerily he started to make his way back down the hill, stepping directly in his own footprints. He knew that it would take a lot of cleaning to settle in, it had last been cleaned when the will was read, In case he decided to move in immediately. It would take work, but he had never shied away from domestic activity. Tino was more than willing to work for happiness and comfort, and work he would.

x.x.x.x.x

Half an hour later Tino stood in front of the counter in the local department store, digging through his wallet under the interested and friendly green eyes of the lady behind the counter—her hair amazingly long, a little wavy and held back by a green bandana and an eye catching salmon pink flower clip.

“So, are you new in town?” she asked, pressing the tags of three huge and wonderfully fluffy towels—powder blue, white and pale sunshine yellow—to the scanner pad, looking at Tino with expectant leaf green eyes.

“Yeah, I’m moving here. I’m Tino Väinämöinen, its nice to meet you. But… how did you know I wasn’t just passing through?” a devious light came into her eyes as if she was looking through game plans with him as a piece on the board.

“Well, for one thing we don’t get many travelers, and for another…” She pointed over his shoulder at his car. “The back of your truck is full of moving boxes.” He looked a little blank for a moment then laughed at himself softly.

“Oh!”

“I’m Elizaveta, welcome to the community. Where ya’ gonna be living?” Tino had to think for a moment before answering, somehow the name of the road had escaped him… he knew it had been something easy. Winter…green? Tide? Berry?

“A couple miles out of town, at the end of… Win-ter…”

“Winterspring drive?” Elizaveta exclaimed, her face lighting up with something gleeful that made him uneasy enough that when the most colorless man he had ever seen appeared from the other side of a shelf Tino flinched. The guy had skin as pale as milk, cloud white hair that spiked a little as if he had bed head and eyes the color of blood. At first glance Tino had wondered if he was a ghost.

“Aw man! So un-awesome for you!”  
Elizaveta’s eyes widened slightly.

“Gil. Don’t. You. Dare-“

“You live next to an axe-murderer!” the words barged from his mouth with cocky confidence until the brunette whirled and slapped a hand over his mouth just as he opened it to say something else.

“I-swear-to-god-Gilbert-Beilschmidt-if-you-weren't-my-best-friend-you-would-be-so~…” the Finn blinked, unsure if the rapid fire words were even in English, a wave of anxiety and worry began seeping into his bones as the albino’s words soaked in.

“A-axe murderer?”

Elizaveta turned back to him with an expression stuck halfway between annoyance, apology and reassurance. One hand still clamped firmly over the mouth of an indignantly insulted looking Gilbert.

“This German dumkopff-“said German dumkopff broke free with a prideful cry of:  
“PRUSSIAN!” he skittered away towards the door “and its true! Good luck surviving! Whoa-!” he narrowly dodged a flying frying pan—still adorned with neon orange sales tag—and ducked around a corner, beating a hasty retreat.

“That German moron is laying it on thicker than his own skull, and that’s saying something. Don’t worry about it; you’ll fit right in. Heck, I like you already!” she paused, glancing towards the door.

“Isn’t that right Mr. Beilschmidt?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” A string of sharp German quickly followed this. The only words Tino heard were ‘un-awesome’ and 'cramping my style' which where in English.

Elizaveta shook her head scornfully and looked back to a confused and still nervous Tino.  
“Really, Mr. Oxenstierna is just a bit quiet. Trust me, you’ll be fine.” He couldn’t help but feel a little better; he could understand quiet.

“Nice to meet you Elizaveta. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You too, good luck!”

x.x.x.x.x

Tino carefully followed his cousin’s directions up into the hills, where the roads were thin and icy. Though—thankfully—plowed. His cautious driving habits had the drive taking at least twice as long as it should have, but when Tino caught his first glimpse of the two buildings flickering through the trees it was all worth the long drive.

The first one was his, reminding him of a broody hen nesting on the right side, a little off from the road. It was a pleasant rosy crème two story family house with trim in golden brown wood and a cottage-y look about it. Its dark grey shingles perfectly complimenting its warm coloring.  
The other one, a little further down the road on the left was clearly occupied based on the warm light illuminating the plain cream curtains and the smoke drowsily leaking from its red brick chimney. This one was nearly the same in architecture but was painted a blue-gray with faded white trim. 

Tino pulled as far into the snowbound driveway as he could before grabbing his keys and sliding out of the truck, his feet crunching on the icy crust of the snow, filled with an overwhelming sense of excitement and some nervousness. Something glimmered out of the corner of his eye and he paused for a moment as his attention was caught in a net of curiosity. He shivered a little unsure if it was cold or something else giving him Goosebumps. 

The glint was from the blade of a heavy axe buried deeply in a sturdy stump at the back of what he now realized must be Mr. Oxenstierna’s home.

'You live next to an axe-murderer!'

He couldn’t help but stare, frozen in place like a deer in the headlights of a fast approaching car… was his neighbor really an axe-murderer? That axe looked sharp enough to chop his slim little body in two with no trouble, would he be the next- Tino shook his head, scattering those thoughts. “Quit it, Tino. No need to freak yourself out…” he mumbled to himself and hurried to the door—painted a pleasing cherry red—and fiddled with the keys for a few moments until he found the right one and the lock unlatched with a twist and click.

He searched for a switch and flicked the one he found beside the door. A flicker, and then the lights illuminated everything with a warm light. Good! The power worked. That was a relief, but revealed something else.

Domestic activity indeed.

Everything from the light bulbs to the carpeted wood floor was covered in dust. The door closed with a bang and he almost screamed, but laughed at himself when he found it had only been the wind. The house was very cold as well as dusty, only slightly warmer than it was outside. And the lack of wind was the only thing to thank for that.

Tino wandered around his new home, occasionally pausing to lift the corner of a sheet from a covered piece of furniture or peer at a dust covered item of interest. The rest of the house was just as dusty as the entrance hall. There was a living room, a kitchen, and bathroom on the bottom floor, all situated too optimize heat flow from a big cast iron wood-burning stove placed diagonally in a corner of the den. 

The Finn sneezed as he stirred up a fresh puff of dust while pulling dry grey wood from the box beside the stove with the intentions of bullying a little warmth into the air of the little house. Soon enough the hearth was radiating blistering waves of heat and crackling fiercely.

With that taken care of he went directly to work with barely a pause. He didn’t dare try out the faucets and risk damage if the pipes were frozen so instead he dug through the cupboards to find a pot, filled it with snow and used the stove to melt it. He shook out one of the dirty sheets, tore it into pieces and using these dampened scraps of cloth proceeded to climb on chairs and under tables too dust absolutely everything in the house. It was many hours of mopping, sweeping—in that order—dusting, wiping, and scrubbing before he was finished. But the glow of warm color and the clear glow from freshly cleaned light fixtures was gratifying to see.

He sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of one wrinkled and very clean hand, feeling triumphant at his victory over the legion of grime. Now all of the furniture was uncovered, carpets unrolled and the dirty sheets had been booted into the fire with a cheery tootle-oo, leaving no trace of their presence.   
Unfortunately he had used up almost all of the wood in the box, and with the sun falling low in the sky it was clear that it was going to get much, much colder.

X*X*X*X*X

Berwald was woken from a rather deep doze by the sound of a crack. His open and forgotten book fell from his lap as he arose, and he bent to pick it up—placing it on the arm of the couch—before stepping up to the window and pulling the curtain back just enough to peek out as the sound repeated.

The sound of a car driving up the road earlier had made him pause, but at the time he had assumed someone had just taken a wrong turn and had expected to hear them turn back around and head back the way they had come. Instead he had heard them stop, a car door slam and a door open and bang closed.  
Admittedly he had tried to draw as little attention to the fact that he was home as possible and hoped that they—whoever they were—were at least reasonably quiet.  
This, however, was the first time he had seen his new neighbor. A new neighbor who was now chopping firewood, or trying too at least. It was plain to see that the axe he was using was not his, that it was much too heavy for him and that he was far from used to the chore. 

Berwald frowned too himself, sorely tempted to go out and help him. But he had a feeling that the sight of him emerging from his house carrying an axe would cause more bad than good… he watched what he could see of the—rather short and stocky looking—blond as he heaved the blade up over and over again. Worrying that he would loose his balance, or drop it or miss on every swing, until finally he gave up with what he had. He bent and picked through the pile of chunky uneven quarter logs for usable ones and retreated towards his back door with a glance at Berwald—or rather, Berwald’s house—that nearly caught him red handed.  
He sighed, His forehead leaned against the wall next to the window and one big hand holding the curtain closed, and shook his head slightly. His new neighbor had gotten away unscathed this time, but if he continued on the way he had today it would only be a matter of time…

Berwald was careful about the circumstances that he met new people in for fear of misunderstanding. He knew how he looked. He was big and tall and he knew he looked scary most of the time even when he didn’t mean too; Because of this he usually preferred to be introduced to someone or have him or her approach him first. He wanted to be careful not to scare his new neighbor—but the last thing he wanted was for anyone to get hurt because of his caution.  
The subject weighed on him for the rest of the night.

X*X*X*X*X  
Tino brought a few of his boxes in from his pickup, unpacking bedding and some books that soon found a new home on a shelf in the living room.  
He went out and tried to chop wood again a little later, and by the end of his second attempt his body hurt. His arms were aching and his hands were raw from the rough wood of the axe handle. Not to mention his back spiked and twinged whenever he tried to bend down, making him wince. Luckily for him, the wood box was once again full enough to last through the night and hopefully for part of the next day. But it was clear that he would have to repeat the process the next day if he didn’t want to freeze. He would just have to get used to it, it would be necessary in order to live here year round…

Exhausted and aching, Tino flopped down on the couch with a soft moan of relief. He put the next day out of his mind for the time being, pulling a blanket over himself before dropping like a stone into a satisfying sleep born of a well-worked day.


	2. I go alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hm... maybe things aren't as they seem...

Tino woke early and took his sweet time building up a new fire and cooking himself breakfast. He was aware of the very sharp and clean ‘thwok’ sound of wood being split outside. He rolled a sausage around in the pan, watching it spit and brown before slicing it into pieces with the edge of his spatula. A well-mixed egg joined the blend. He let it be as cut rich slices of pecan bread, thinking all the while.

His neighbor—what was it he was called, Oxenstierna? —Must have gotten up horribly early to be chopping wood at this time of morning. The sun had barely even risen yet when he got up, and the sound of wood being chopped had been the first sound in his ears. Mr. Oxenstierna must really like using that axe… no, Tino, no! He shook his head to dislodge that train of thought, effectively throwing it from the tracks.

He slowly sat down at the kitchen table with his food and listened to the steady, rhythmic sound as he chewed. He paused mid-bite as the sound stopped, then continued with his breakfast as no other sound started up besides the sound of logs rattling together quietly. He was reminded of his own shortage and sighed, acknowledging that he would have too do the chore as well. He supposed it was best to follow Mr. Oxenstierna’s example and get it over with early.

He drew breakfast out; chewing each bite well, and taking his time too savor the flavors of the food in the hope that he might avoid his axe wielding neighbor. Finally he could draw out the process of eating no longer that he already had and was obliged too finish, sighing as he put the last dish into the drain rack. He pulled his jacket and boots on as he headed for the door. 

Tino nearly tripped over the unexpected obstacle on his back stair, one that definitely had not been there the day before. Someone had stacked a neat pile of perfectly sized logs there. Tino stared at the gift at his feet in surprise, his mind refusing to catch up with how it could have gotten there. Finally his mind caught on and changed subjects to why, and when they had gotten there. They must have been watching me! He realized with the strange sensation of being both touched and a little weirded out. 

Finally he blinked out of it, choosing to take it as a good kind of thing and not a – terrifying, freaky, weird, serial killer—bad kind of thing. He smiled at the gesture, sending a puzzled and quizzical look at the only place it could have come from—the peaceful blue-grey home of Mr. Oxenstierna.

X*X*X*X*X

Berwald watched around the edge of the curtain, waiting to see if his neighbor’s reaction would be positive or if the idea had been a mistake. Finally the door opened and he noted that the other barely avoided stumbling over the pile, he would have to place it further from the door next time… if there was a next time- he caught the edge of a smile and let the curtain fall with a swish, feeling warm with his success. 

That had definitely been a good reaction.

X*X*X*X*X

Each morning for the next two days Tino found another pyramid of wood on the back porch. Tino noted that the wood was now being placed well out of tripping distance and realized that if his near incident had been noted than he must be being watched every morning.

By this point he had started to notice things about the man. Not much, but little things, like that he was very sneaky, making his rounds in near complete silence except for the occasional sneeze, or clatter. And that he was tall-if the large boot-print in the snow the morning before said anything about it. 

The sneezes had started to make him worry though. Getting up so much earlier to chop extra wood couldn’t have been kind to his health… he couldn’t possibly have time for a good breakfast at the hour he got up at, and then all that work without proper nourishment—not to mention the early morning frost. A roughly muffled cough this morning had convinced him. His neighbor was coming down with a cold… he was very grateful for the kindness, but he didn’t like being a nuisance to anyone, and the though of pain at his expense did not weigh easily on him—much to his credit, his cousin had once commented.

On the third day, he tried a slight trick and looked up unexpectedly, throwing a cheery smile like a fastball directed at the blue house. He barely caught the movement of the curtain in the downstairs window. Mm… a shy axe-murderer… he chuckled at the thought.

He would have to find a way to repay Mr. Oxenstierna… what could he… suddenly his thoughts from before returned with a victorious vengeance. Mr. Oxenstierna got up so early, with no time to eat; he must be famished by the time he was done. Plus it just so happened too have a shopping trip planned for today anyways… maybe Elizaveta could tell him what sort of things Mr. Oxenstierna would like while he was there. She seemed to know a bit about him… and as for the cold; his mother had long ago provided him with the perfect solution.

A sunny smile lit his face as he carried the wood inside.

This was going to be fun.

x.x.x.x.x

Berwald bent too place another armful of logs on the growing pile on his neighbors back doorstep. He had caught a static-y storm warning on his radio and the temperature had already dropped noticeably, he knew it would probably be quite a while before he would be able to chop wood again. The axe had a nasty habit of freezing up, becoming unusable, and that was if the weather was good enough to even go outside. 

He was secure in the knowledge that he had more than enough stored away in the cellar, and he knew that without heat, during a blizzard… it wouldn’t be pretty. So here he was, piling as much wood as he could carry from the woodshed and stacking it to either side of the back door. 

He straitened and turned to go for another load, covering a sneeze with his elbow as he did. In that moment of blindness his foot caught on the step and down he went with a breathless ‘umph!’ his leg twisting painfully beneath him.

He took a moment to gather his scattered breath and tried to get up. 

A deep growling groan tremored from his throat as stabbing pain shot up his leg, making his head feel like it was going to explode. He shook his head to clear the dizziness and with a series of grunts and groans, managed to sit down heavily in front of his neighbor’s door, his legs stretched out on the icy step.  
Berwald sat in silence for a long, long moment…

“W’ll sh’t.”

x.x.x.x.x

It was snowing when Tino headed home later that evening. He had spent the afternoon with a very, very helpful Elizaveta. He had been very careful with his buying, staying strictly with his shopping list, he had a feeling that if he had not he would have headed home with twice or thrice the amount he had planned. Instead he had refused to get anything off the list besides two new sets of sheets, and an armful of fluffy down pillows. Which now sat in a neat pile on the passenger seat.  
Tino was amazed by how quickly the snow had thickened in the short time he had been in the car. It had gone from light flurries to being so thick that he could only see five feet ahead. If it kept up like this it might turn out to be a nasty blizzard. He could be trapped inside for days… it was lucky that he was getting home before the roads became un-drivable. 

He sighed in relief as he pulled in; he had gotten home without incident. Now that he was home, he didn’t have too worry about anything happening anymore. He leapt cheerily from the car, taking his bag of groceries and armload of bedclothes with him. He flicked the locking mechanism on the door; hearing both locks clunk and slammed the door shut behind him as he headed for the house. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he balanced the bag on his knee and felt for his keys. 

Wrong pocket. He switched legs and felt in his other pocket, beginning to frown when that one proved empty as well. He felt all over, genuinely worried now. Had he put them in the grocery bag? He checked: No. Where had he last used them… in the car? His eyes widened in horror and he raced back, peering inside. Sure enough, there were his keys, hanging innocently from the ignition. 

“Perkele.”


	3. To meet another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The edited version. Hopefully this will help me get past my writers block. Love all you guys who commented! You sweeties!

He took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down—wrapping his arms around himself in the process. A cooler head was quickly gained, with a little help from the frigged air, but he was still secretly panicking. He was locked out of the house. He was locked out of the car. It was snowing. What were you supposed to do in a situation like this? 

Tino wrapped his arms around himself and went to see if he could find another way to get inside. He checked a window, on his way around the house, finding it sealed firmly shut with a locking mechanism on the inside, and continued to the back hoping beyond hope that maybe, just maybe he had forgotten to lock the back door. Please let it be unlocked, please-

Tino stopped dead, his eyes growing hugely wide. There was a person on his back doorstep. Just sitting there, shivering slightly. A very tall person with tufts of short pale hair sticking out from under a ski cap. He took a few steps closer, his feet compacting the fresh snow with an odd crushing sound, the man looked up and-  
Blue. Tino couldn’t help it, he flinched. This man was undeniably terrifying. His eyes were the purest shade of piercing blue that Tino had ever seen, the color of a tropical sea, with a rim of indigo blue around the edge of the iris and surrounding the pupils. They also held flecks of green in them that made them glimmer, which Tino might have noticed if he wasn’t freaking out so much.

“Uh… hello.” Tino said dumbly, standing frozen. The eyes flickered away for a moment and the man slipped a pair of wire frame glasses onto his face, wincing a little as the cold metal met his skin, before looking up again. Tino jumped. The man had a frown etched onto his face and he was staring at Tino tensely.

“H’llo…” Tino snapped out of it and blinked at the man in bewilderment, noticing the piles of logs that the man was sitting between. Oh! So he must be… “h-hello. Um, excuse me for a second? I just need to-” Tino stepped gingerly around him and reached for the door latch, it was locked. He cursed quietly, glanced at the man on his doorstep and made a decision; he recoiled back, raised his foot and heaved against the door with all his weight. Once more, and the frame around the deadbolt crunched and gave way, sending the door slamming open against the inside wall, and sent him stumbling forward into the house. He caught his balance, and took a breath, satisfied that he had asserted that he wasn’t completely helpless, just in case. He stepped back outside, looking at the man hesitantly. He was staring. Should he…? 

“Er… do you want to come in?” the man didn’t reply, just hesitated then heaved himself to his feet with a low groan, using the house for support. He nodded hesitantly and Tino stepped to the side leaving the doorway open, watching him as he tried to take a step and stumbled, grimacing. Tino’s eyes widened in realization as he saw the way that he was favoring his left foot and he hurried to his side with quick steps.  
The Finn superimposed himself beneath one of the mans arms as support, barely noticing the surprised look that was thrown his way as he helped the man limp his way inside and onto the living room sofa.

Feeling rather flustered he froze for a moment… it was too late now. If he really was an axe murderer- no, what was he thinking? He really needed to just stop thinking before his own imagination drove him to over the edge of the world of wits.

“Erm… just a sec, I’ll be right back.” Tino dashed off to the kitchen where he found the original pair of keys that had come with his truck and ventured out into the snow again, feeling the other mans eyes on him as he went out. He trudged around the house again to reclaim his keys and bring in the groceries before they froze or got damp or something. 

It was barely a minute and a half before he was reentering the house with his arms full of pillows, paper bags and sheets. The blue eyes seemed to have been watching the entry the entire time he was gone, and he quickly ducked into the kitchen and away from the piercing gaze.  
Tino took a couple quiet deep breaths put a kettle on before gathering himself and returning to the living room and setting to work on rekindling a fire in the stove. He used it as an excuse to avoid the gaze he still felt on him even as he spoke. 

“Um… I’m Tino, Tino Väinämöinen. Are you Mr. Oxenstierna by any chance?”

“Y’eh. C’ll m’ B’rwald.” Tino fell into a short thoughtful silence, taking a moment to accustom himself to the heavy accent and digest the fact that he now had something to call his neighbor besides ‘Mr. Oxenstierna’ or painfully impersonal verb prepositions.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Berwald.” He murmured with a small nervous smile, straitening up and staring at the fire for a moment to make sure it was properly lit.  
Tino forced himself to stop and breath, putting a stop to the ridiculous, nervous stumbling of his heart “… what happened to your leg, Berwald?” 

“Hn… I f’ll…”

“You fell?” Tino blinked and felt a bubble of instinctual worry whirl to the top of his skull and pop like a soda bubble. The sound of its bursting snapped him in the back of the head like a well aimed rubber band. He knew well enough how to care for injuries, and here he was fluttering around like a startled hen! He was a man, damn it all! He twitched as his shoulders straitened with determination. Tino’s knee hit the floor with a thud as he dropped down before the—still terrifying—Swede. He propped a hand on his knee and cocked his fingers. “Give me your foot, please.” There was a moment of hesitation before a heavy foot was being propped over his thigh, hand supporting the wounded ankle. Tino deftly twiddled with the laces on Berwald’s boot, in no time at all the shoe was slipped off and laid to the side where it wouldn’t get in the way, followed quickly by the thick wool sock beneath it. 

He did indeed have very large feet, but they definitely weren’t in the worst shape, why in comparison to Matthis—Tino shuddered and put the image from his head—this man had the feet of a fucking saint! But the fact didn’t stick too firmly to his brain, because no sooner had he noticed and noted it, it was dimmed out by the state of the poor Swede’s ankle. “Ouch…” Berwald shifted to look and ‘hmm’-ed in agreement. 

The afflicted area was darkening, badly reddened and swollen, standing against the paleness of the surrounding skin in a swirl of red and irritated pink. Even in the state it was Tino knew it could have been worse, he had seen enough sprained, twisted and chaffed skin at his old job to tell that much. Tino’s fingers wrapped lightly around the afflicted area and squeezed gently, feeling for any shifting or odd movement. None. That was good; he hadn’t broken anything at least. That meant that at the worst it was a bad sprain, and a sprain he could handle with one arm behind his back and a blindfold.

X*X*X*X*X

Berwald looked around absently, sitting before the fire with his newly treated foot near the warmth. Tino had been very careful and considerate about the whole ordeal; he didn’t think he had ever been treated with such consideration when injured—not even when he had gone to the hospital for a broken arm. Not to say that the doctors had done a bad job, they had just been very gruff and overly professional about the whole thing, while several nurses hovered outside whispering about mob bosses and hired killers… Berwald shook his head.

Berwald sighed. The Finn—he thought he must be Finnish with a name like Väinämöinen—had disappeared once again, leaving him to sit and think in front of the blazing stove. He wasn’t complaining, it was far from uncomfortable, quite the opposite in fact. Besides that, he didn’t dare move without his hosts indication—he had produced quite a few startled shrieks in his time by appearing where he wasn’t expected and he didn’t intend to make that mistake now. It would be bad enough in normal circumstances, but this was his new neighbor. A new neighbor who, apparently, had legs of a mule and a kick to match. Someone who might very well be saying for quite some time—at least if he didn’t move away like the others—had to be carefully treated lest they be given a bad impression. 

Removing is glasses for a moment to wipe a stray speck of ash off the lens and quickly slipping them back on as he heard footsteps; Berwald glanced up at the blonde in the doorway. He was about to open his mouth to thank him for his hospitality when the lights suddenly flickered and went out with a low buzz.  
“Oh for the love of… Perkele! Not now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 10/2: Sorry everyone! I've been super busy so i'm putting this on hold for the time being! Hopefully i'll be able to get back to it in the future!


End file.
